Buried in Sunshine (13 page)

“It looks like you’ve had problems in the
past—however; they did not take you to get help. At least… not
until you tried to kill yourself,” Elizabeth says, adding evidence
to her theory that they kept their affair a secret in order to keep
Emma’s life more balanced.

“Maybe I’m crazy now. Maybe I never stopped
being crazy. I prevented my mother from being happy. All these
years, and I never knew that she had aspirations of being anything
other than what she was. She had an idea of how she wanted her life
to be, but because of me…she died unhappy—she never pursued her
dreams.”

“Do not treat yourself so harshly,” Elizabeth
says as she slides out another letter. “Do not forget that their
happiness would have caused pain to another family.”

“Ethan…” Emma says as she places her and over
eyes. Her head hurts from the influx of all the new information
that her mind attempts to process. “He was just going to walk out
on his family…like my dad did.”

“He would have been in your shoes,” Elizabeth
says as she nods in agreement. “He would have grown up without a
father.”

“Do you think they were still together…all the
way up until she died?”

“Only one person would have that answer,”
Elizabeth says as she replaces the letter in the box and sets it
down upon the bed. “You would have to ask him.”

“I can’t do that,” Emma protests as she gets to
her feet and grabs the metal box from the bed. “I wish I would have
never found this—what am I supposed to tell Ethan? How can I face
him tonight and not even think about it? How can I just go in there
and face his father and say, hey I found a box of love
letters…”

“He is the only one who would have the answers,”
Elizabeth says as she begins to walk out of the room.

Emma follows behind her, she shuts the door—the
metal box tucked beneath her arm. “I do not think that I can
confront him about this.”

“Well the other girl…Alexis,” Elizabeth says
with a strange touch of jealousy in usually kind voice. “She wanted
you to find this. I believe she expects that you will ultimately
confront Brian Metcalfe.”

“God, I wouldn’t even know how to begin,” Emma
says as she shakes her head.

“Just go to the office when it is not busy—drop
the letters in front of him,” Elizabeth says as she begins to
descend the spiral staircase. “The rest should just happen. He’ll
have an explanation, I’m sure. Let’s just hope that it’s an honest
one. Just start with saying that you will keep it between the two
of you. It is obvious he cares for you.”

“So I shouldn’t tell Ethan?”

“Exposing this to his family at this point would
only bring them pain.”

“Shouldn’t they know the truth, even if it is
painful? Isn’t that how you’ve been treating me—all of you?”

“I suppose then, it is up to you. Do you bring
others pain because you are going through it?” Elizabeth asks as
she sits down at the kitchen table and lets out an exhausted sigh.
“Your mother is gone—I imagine that he has gone through a lot of
pain. Do you feel that he needs to go through more? Would it make
you feel better?”

“If it were up to me no one would experience
pain,” Emma says as she notices the visibly tired Elizabeth. “Are
you alright?”

“Just tired,” Elizabeth says as she shrugs her
shoulders and folds her arms against the table.

“You don’t seem like the girl that I met that
first night,” Emma adds, noting the strange change in
personalities. “You were much more forceful.”

“There is a chance it might not have been me,”
Elizabeth admits. “I know what happened, it feels like they were my
words. I suppose though, in a way, I’m connected to all the
others—just like I’m connected to you.

“It’s just that,” Emma says softly as she
recalls faintly everything that happened that first night she
realized who she truly was. “You seem different the more time
passes.”

“I …” Elizabeth says as she nods. “I feel…less
important. I feel like I don’t matter in the grand scheme of things
anymore.”

“Don’t say that,” Emma objects. “You are
important.”

“I worry that once I’m no longer useful…I’ll
just disappear permanently.”

“I think that you are incredibly useful,” Emma
says as she reaches across the table and places her hand over
Elizabeth’s; it is not as warm as it used to be. “You are the only
one I can talk to freely.”

“Thank you…” Elizabeth whispers softly. “I think
I need to go and lay down.”

“Of course,” Emma says as she nods. “I have an
appointment.”

“And a date,” Elizabeth adds with a weak
smile.

“I’m not looking forward to either.”

“Try and enjoy your day regardless,” Elizabeth
says as she gets to her feet and begins to head towards the
staircase.

“Is there anything…” Emma begins as she grabs
her keys from her purse and heads towards the door. “Anything I
should do—anywhere I should go?”

“Do whatever you like,” Elizabeth says as she
heads up the stairs. “It is your life, make the best of it.”

*

Emma reaches the city with a bit of time to kill
before her appointment with Dr. Riley. She drives down Pennsylvania
Street and pauses outside of Brian Metcalfe’s insurance office. She
looks to the metal box of letters while attempting to bring up
enough courage to actually go in and confront him. She spots a
young woman entering the building and decides against it—instead
she heads to her appointment early.

Emma enters the familiar brown waiting room. She
picks up a People magazine from the table and quickly flips through
it—nothing in it catches her interest. She stares blankly for a few
moments at the paintings of the fog filled green trees that follow
the winding black paved road. She wonders where such a place
exists. It looks nice. For the first time in a while she feels the
urge to travel, to see something new. She wonders if this is even a
possible option. If those invisible hooks that keep her locked
firmly into familiarity have released their panic inducing hold
upon her.

As the door opens to Dr. Riley’s office, Emma is
surprised to be greeting by another familiar face.

“Justine?” Emma asks as she gets to her feet and
sets the magazine back down upon the mosaic stone table.

“Emma…from yesterday,” Justine says as she nods
and reaches out a hand.

“I didn’t know that you were a patient of
Julie’s,” Emma says as she takes Justine’s hand.

“Have been for a few years,” Justine says with a
small smile. “I guess our journey is on a more similar path than we
thought.”

“I suppose it is,” Emma adds as she nods and
smiles. “The necklace—it was a great gift. The person I gave it to
loved it. Oh, and the painting, it looks great on my wall.”

“I’m so pleased,” Justine says as she flashes a
brighter smile. “Like I said, I’ll be around—well not at the shop,
it’s well over a hundred today with the humidity. If you need
anything though, you know how to get a hold of me?”

“I have your number,” Emma says as she
instinctively pulls out her cell. “I’ll give you a call when I get
a chance.”

“Sounds great,” Justine says as she heads for
the door. “Have a good session.”

Emma enters the office and sits down upon the
couch.

“So you’ve met Justine?” Julie Riley asks as she
turns her chair to face away from her writing desk.

“I found her shop while visiting the beach
yesterday,” Emma answers as she rests her arms beneath her and
folds her legs. “I bought some art from her.”

“That’s great,” Dr. Riley says as she smiles
broadly. “I’m glad to hear that went out to the beach—and, also
made a connection. Justine is a great person. She has been through
a lot—nothing I can talk about, of course. But, I’m sure that you
two can find something in common.”

“I also,” Emma begins as she feels herself
blushing ever-so-slightly. “I have a date tonight.”

“All this progress and only the third day of
your breakthrough,” Dr. Riley says as she nods and widens her eyes.
“Soon you won’t even need me at this rate. I am deeply
impressed.”

“Things aren’t completely…” Emma begins, however
has a hard time finding exactly where she should begin.
“…perfect.”

“What is going on that is negative?”

“Did you know my mother?”

“Other than the few times we met when she first
set up our appointments,” Dr. Riley says as she scratches the side
of her face with a long red nail. “I do not think that we really
talked all that much, other than a plan of action for your care—I
mean I know very little of her personally.”

“Do you know Brian Metcalfe?”

“Owns a small insurance company downtown, your
mother worked for him, and he helped you out after she passed,” Dr.
Riley says as she rattled of the short list. “Other than seeing
where he works when I drive by—the only other information I know is
from you.”

“They were having an affair—while my father was
still with my mother. I found some letters in a box in her old
room. He wanted to leave his family; he wanted my mother to leave
my father and run off with him.”

“I’m sorry Emma,” Dr. Riley says as she shakes
her head.

“The worst part of it—was that my mother always
pretended that she enjoyed living this poor kind of simple life,
when in truth she was just doing it so that she had an excuse to
continue working for him.”

“Why didn’t they follow through with the plans
after your father left?”

“That’s what I keep asking myself—and the only
thing that I can come up with is that this last episode wasn’t the
first time I’ve had…issues.”

“There is no history of treatment up until you
turned twenty,” Dr. Riley says as she turns back to her table and
pulls out the bottom drawer, revealing a large case of files. She
finds Emma’s history and thumbs through it. “Yeah… There is nothing
beyond. Then again, looking back, I always felt you should have
gotten treatment when your boyfriend passed away. I suppose your
mother waiting until the house was completely burning before
calling the fire department—nothing against your mother, of
course.”

“I don’t remember him very well,” Emma says
sadly.

“I’m so sorry,” Dr. Riley says as she quickly
files away the paperwork. “I did not mean any of that to be
insensitive at all. I feel so foolish. It’s just that with the
paperwork…I tend to get impersonal, which, of course, is why I
never bring it out during a session. I just broke my own rule—I’m
so sorry Emma.”

“Did you know that my name used to be
Langford?”

“I did not know that,” Dr. Riley says she folds
her arms and places her clasped fists beneath her chin.

“Why can’t I remember that my name used to be
Langford?”

“Perhaps, the memory of him leaving was painful.
Whenever someone that we love leaves us unexpectedly, it is
impossible to just manage through it. I believe that it always
leaves some kind of scar—not the visible kind, but up in here,” Dr.
Riley says as she knocks against her head with a knuckle.

“Do you think he knew about my mother and Brain
Metcalfe?”

“It would have made it easier for him to detach
himself,” Dr Riley replies. “I could not say for sure. I mean I do
not know the circumstances, but it is entirely possible.”

“I think I have to confront him,” Emma whispers
as she feels an uncomfortable twinge of anxiety as she speaks the
words. “Eventually, I think I have to find out. I don’t even
remember my father’s first name. I did not know that my mother had
this secret life—there’s so much that he knows. I just hope that he
is willing to provide me with answers.”

“From what you’ve told me about him in the past,
he seems like a reasonable man.”

“I know, it is just the fear of how he will
react,” Emma says as she lets out a sigh.

“Well, our minds tend to make things play out
far worse than they actually will,” Dr. Riley says. “I think in the
end you’ll find it a cathartic experience.”

“I will go,” Emma says softly as she looks away
to the window. She can make out the parking lot and a few trees.
The air shimmers in waves from the heat. “When I’m ready…when they
tell me I should, I guess.”

“They…?”

“There is one thing,” Emma says as she
hesitates. Does she really want to do this? Dr. Riley has always
been kind and understanding—but this whole ‘other versions’ thing
could be a bit too much, even for an experienced therapist.

“Yes?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Emma says as
she attempts to buy more time to convince herself just how bad an
idea revealing this would be. “I mean I do…”

“We don’t have to talk about anything you don’t
want to.”

“Here goes,” Emma says as she exhales. “I’m
seeing…versions of myself. They’re in my house, and at the beach—I
see them walking down the street.”

“And they look just like you do?”

“Yes,” Emma says. “Also, they talk to me. I
don’t know how many there are, but I think I’ve talked to either
three or four of them.”

“What do they tell you?”

“They say that they are there to help me regain
my memories, to make me whole again,” Emma answers, purposefully
leaving the part where they warned her that the world is going to
end in five more days because she had a worshipping fetish for
sunlight.

“This is not completely unheard of,” Dr. Riley
says as she scratches against her cheek—a telltale sign that she is
processing information or recalling facts. “Although it is more
common in schizophrenia, not to scare you—but you may have a mild
form of that. However, the mind is a very powerful and complex
thing. These other versions of you, they are most likely your mind
attempting to process all the changes in a manner that makes the
most sense to you. I believe that they are there to do just that
‘make you whole again’ and while I can understand how it would seem
unsettling, I do not think it should be anything you should be
overly concerned about.”